Wonder love

For the birds

The view outside one of our biggest windows this time of year is terribly dreary. We decided to cheer it up by hanging some feeders it in and hoping for bird friends to join us.

 

 

We added a collection of books and characters to inspire imagining about the lives of the birds, and to encourage a playful curiosity about their world.

 

We had to wait for the birds. But Stella came right away.

Exploring everything.

Inspired.

For days now, she's carried around her "bird journal". Practicing birds. Learning to see.

1. 2. 

3. 4.

5.

Ah, the power of imagination, inspiration and one tiny human, driven to make meaning of her relationship with the world. Reframing what we could see through the window was so simple, really. And the drive so strong.

Framing

I had to laugh at myself this morning-- at the irritation I felt while cleaning up the raisins Stella had dumped on the kitchen floor.  This, after celebrating the dumping of the pebbles only a day ago...

But the documented pebble celebration gave me pause to laugh, and shake my head a little, clean up the raisins, give Stella a kiss, and move on.  Documenting children's learning makes our own learning visible, too.  Being prepared for documentation inspires me to look at everything going on around me as a compassionate and optimistic observer, with an artist's eye.  I want to capture the beauty, the surprise, the wisdom in our experiences-- to celebrate, to learn, to remember.

There was great beauty in our studio this morning.  Max drawing dragons and Sophie making shrinky-dink jewelry.  "Mom!  I can make a shrinky-dink ring!  Awesome!"  (Those shrinky-dinks are truly awesome...)  

I loved how 8 year old Max moved between drawing dragons in the studio and fighting them in the living room, protected in his duct-tape armor and armed with cardboard shield and tinfoiled sword. He would regularly return to the studio to repair and upgrade his weapons with tape and staples.  

Focusing on these great flights of fancy allowed me to not worry so much when Max broke character for a moment-- and, through hysterical laughter managed to clue me in to the fact that Stella had just peed on the rug.  Stella confirmed, "I pee," pointing.  You see, this whole post might have been about the fact that I spent most of my day wrestling Stella into diapers when she didn't talk me out of her wearing one with promises of using the potty.  Never were these promises kept.  But it was relatively late in the day when I finally wised up and got the diaper on.  

Or I might have written about Max refusing to give up the dragon slaying space for Sophie to practice her violin.  And the tantrum that ensued.  Or Sophie's reluctance to practice anyway.  Or Stella's incessant urge to climb on the counters, and that she learned how to open the door to the basement stairs today.  Or the cold rain.

But these are the images I'm left with at the end of the day.  They remind me that there are truly no other people in the world I'd rather spend my time with.  And I choose to remember them this way.